


The Sweetest Breath

by Moonsetta



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Backstory, Breath, Gen, Memory, Water, origin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 11:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3248189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsetta/pseuds/Moonsetta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chain...bubbles of lost breath... Roy learns that the air is sugar sweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sweetest Breath

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers! I know, this is a big switch considering I normally and have only, up to this point, written humor when it comes to this fandom. My ambition kind of ran out when writing a story with my friend Insanity (yes that's her username) While I DID try to post said story in question I deleted it because it's a terrible story for the simple reason that our styles are too different and no longer mesh.
> 
> Anyways, the point is, I won't be posting said story but I did have a good time writing it and there was an instance where both Insanity and I each wrote our own chapters. THIS, is my solo chapter.
> 
> I didn't know the specifics of Roy's/Red Arrow's past at the time, only a few basics so I kind of had to wing it when it was my turn to type up this chapter. To be honest about Young Justice-I hated the show but my BFF was so adamant about a collab that I just rolled with it. I thought my comicbook knowledge would have been adequate for the story but everyone was so out of character in the show (save Wally) that Insanity and I were never really on the same page.
> 
> Well, enjoy and feel free to join the after activities of the Young Justice team trying to castrate me at the end!

Roy had been infected. His mind had been infected. Infected by dreams. Infected by out-of-place dreams that reeked of too many contradicting moments. Times of sweet sorrow, a moment of happiness later drenched by a flash of sorrow.

Why were those memories running through his head now of all times?

"Well," he thought rapidly as he continually hit the chain that held him to the bottom of New York City harbor, "They always say your life flashes before your eyes before you die."

His hands grew blue, like his face, and he released the chain as his face turned up to the water's surface, bubbles escaping his mouth as he released what little oxygen he had left in his lungs. He noticed his bow laying a good twenty feet away on the sandy bay floor, but he couldn't reach it in time, besides, the short length of chain wouldn't allow him to swim far enough to retrieve it.

_Large, rough hands enfolded over the tiny digits that were his own, forcing him to grip the bow tighter._

_Be ready. Was the warning._

_Two years later, cold, gloved hands enfolded the same, but slightly larger fingers, encouraging him to grasp the bow tighter._

_Be ready. Was the warning. The same warning._

Be ready? He wasn't ready to die. Of all the things in the world, a crowbar to the back of the head and here he was, watching the silver shaded bubbles pop into the water around him as his body took on a kind of, second breath.

There was no chance he had been born an Atlantean, right?

His eyes lowered in calm acceptance, the silver bubbles danced as he fell down and his body lost any buoyancy it had previously owned. His mask slipped from his face, letting his eyes empty its own water into the bay. The expressive eyes closed and the dying archer reached out with a bone white hand as a last attempt to gain any oxygen by reaching the surface.

Who was he kidding? He was 50 feet under!

Even he got free, he wouldn't make it in time before he died!

Besides, this bed of sand was warm. So much warmer than the water that was surrounding him. It gave him a new respect for the old sailors who talked of cliche watery graves of dead shipmates and the ships themselves. All of them laying in the same exact graveyard.

His head hit a hard rock underneath the sand and he tried to turn his head, but he didn't have the energy, or the air to even attempt the small movement.

The darkness behind his eyes turned white in his mind. And then there were those memories. Was there a way to burn thoughts? He hoped so. There had to be a way. Some way.

No matter how one denied what their mind did, there was a difficulty in stopping memories during this time. An extreme difficulty. So, they came.

_"Careful young one," Brave Bow spoke as hands roughened by years of native life encased the youngster's own tiny hands._

_"Why?"_

_"We do not wish for the creature to be harmed."_

_The young apprentice nodded after a small smile and watched with ready-to-be-fascinated eyes as Brave Bow removed his hands and stood up behind the squatting boy. Roy, a child, as every one of them, wanting to see something unbelievable to their tiny minds, pulled apart his hands as a magnificent and tiny creature floated before him._

_A simple butterfly._

_Being raised by Brave Bow, the medicine chief of their Navajo tribe, Roy had grown a pleasant welcoming of nature. Behind him, his mentor looked on with a proud smile as the kid sat on the dirt ground, fascinated by the small fluttering being. The surprising thing to the child was that the small butterfly wasn't moving away from him. AT ALL!_

_It was just fluttering there, its wings a mix of brown, the hue as chocolate-rich as the bark from the trees in the nearby forest, and crimson, the color shifting in the light as it resembled fire._

_Finally though, it fluttered away, never turning back._

_"Brave Bow?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"Why doesn't he say goodbye?"_

_"Because, he will always return. Now come along, we should return to the village. You must be well rested for tomorrow young one."_

_"Yeah!" he shouted and jumped to his feet before his own bow was off of his back and in his hands in a flash, "The competition's tomorrow!"_

_"You'll do great."_

_"Do you think I'll get a chance to talk to, you know HIM?"_

_"After you reveal your advanced ability there will be no doubt who he will notice."_

_Roy grinned and held his bow to his chest, "I wonder if Green Arrow will like me?"_

_"He will," the medicine man said, the most certain smile on his face that anyone had ever seen._

The shadow drew closer, similar masked eyes widened in shock. So much shock that the new being nearly lost all of his air. His hands went to the chain quickly, pulling at the section that seemed to be connected through the bay floor near to the center of the earth. 

_Roy watched as a guard in a blue uniform was taken to the open back of a nearby ambulance. He looked at the field inside the arena where fallen and unmoved targets stood in lopsided rows._

_He had been doing great. Brave Bow had been right, no archer in the city had even come close to overcoming him and he couldn't stop looking over at the hero. Green Arrow. Green Arrow himself was judging the competition! If it had been anyone else he wouldn't have come but to be watched by the one hero you idolized?_

_It was both exciting and terrifying._

_He forced himself to never lose focus though. He had to do this right!_

_All of those thoughts came undone though when a guard stumbled into the arena, his head bloody from the obvious impact of a heavy object. Green Arrow, hero till the end, grabbed his own bow and leapt into action as the crowd and competitors ran for cover while several gunman stepped into the arena._

_Roy ducked behind one of the targets that had been being wheeled down the track. He stuck his head out slightly, watching with nothing short of a child's super hero worship and affection as Green Arrow let arrows fly. Guns went flying as bullets whipped through the air. But then, a man charged and the super hero archer had to fall back on his close combat training._

_That's when Roy spotted a gunman pulling out a second gun. He didn't even think about it. He let two arrows fly as he ran from his target barrier and to the next closest one._

_It had been a great distraction. In eight seconds, the idiot who had charged was down with a swelling welt on his bald head and twelve arrows had released a sleeping gas around the gunmen. A large bag fell from one of the man's hands, revealing a mass amount of jewelry, money and small electronic items._

_"Hey kid," a voice broke the young archer from his thoughts and he looked up before stumbling back in shock._

_"G-Green Arrow?"_

_"That was a brave move there in the arena kid and you wiped the floor with those other competitors."_

_Cheeks red with embarrassment, Roy turned his head away, "Th-thank you."_

_"Hey come on Speedy," the nickname made the child turn his head back to see that his idol had his hand stretched out towards him, "I'll take you home."_

_He took the offered hand before Green Arrow could change his mind._

_When he returned home that evening, it was with a new bow and specialized arrows from Green Arrow himself._

_He half regretted the next time he saw him though. It was a time he wished, like many others, he could forget and never have to remember again._

_Brave Bow was cold as he lay on the floor of their home. He hadn't moved since Roy had woken at dawn and it was now dusk. Other braves had entered, looked Brave Bow over and then left again._

_The young boy had closed his eyes for only a minute but when he reopened them, Brave Bow had vanished and the village air floating inside the place he called home smelt of long ago burned flesh. Still, he sat there. It wasn't until a sympathetic face entered the small shelter that he broke out of his shock._

_"G-G-Green A-Ar-Arrow?"_

_Arms encircled him and he leaned into the touch that was given. He wasn't sure why, but he had fallen asleep again, but when he woke up, the hero archer was sleeping next to him, his head turned in an uncomfortable way, pressed against the shelter wall._

Why those memories came he didn't know. He wouldn't ever really know.

He did not feel as hands pressed down onto his chest but there was a warmth, a cold over cold effect that burned skin, like dry ice.

He did not hear the voices nor did he hear the call as a deep voice spoke.

"Oliver?"

"What is it Bats?"

"It's Roy."

"If the kid's in trouble he can just-"

He did not hear the soft cries from a younger hero.

On the nearby shore, Batman spoke into his communicator swiftly and without emotion, "Oliver, he's dead."

**Author's Note:**

> Moonsetta A/N: *Dodges rotten tomatoes, batarangs, birdarangs, electrified water whips, arrows, rocks and toilet plungers* Sorry?
> 
> Insanity A/N: ...O-O YOU KILLED HIM! I WANT TO CRY!WHAAAAAAAHHHHH! I didn't like Speedy but come on! How could you! You said I'd hate you for this but I didn't think you'd actually go so far as to kill him! o' TT_TT VoV WHAAAAHHHH! ROY! But I love it, it was a great twist.
> 
> Anyways, that's my made up story of Roy's background and attempt at a deathfic.
> 
> Live long and devour pizza!


End file.
